High as Ithil
by Ithileste
Summary: One late night in Rivendell, Frodo learns more of the Elves and their lesser-known customs. Rated R for language and content. Reviews/flames/whatever welcome.
1. Culture Contact

Frodo tracked the noise that had woken him through the imposingly grand rooms of Rivendell's Last Homely House. He moved quietly, in his hobbitish way, for it was the very heart of night and no Elves graced the passageways or adorned the valley with song. Slender candles sat serenely on ornamental sidetables, flickering eerie light through the empty halls.

There was the noise again. Frodo's sensitive ears pricked; he turned his curly head this way and that, trying to determine the location from which it was emanating.

The noise repeated once more. It was not a pretty sound. This was probably the factor that had awoken him, for everything in Rivendell had, until now, been at the zenith of aesthetics.

He crept through the high-ceilinged foyer, up the elaborate staircase and across the second-floor balcony; and finally realised that the incessant disturbance was coming from Lord Elrond's private chambers.

Frodo frowned, confused. He almost turned to leave, but it came again, louder for his close proximity: a harsh, obtuse noise, almost like a pained cry, with an unmistakable hint of desperation to it.

That made up Frodo's mind for him. Lord Elrond might be in danger, and, hobbit or not, he had to find out what was going on. Then he could get Gandalf to help if need be.

He pushed softly against the door and it opened slightly. The lamps inside were lit, giving the room a lovely, distinctively elven-looking glow. Voices conversed within. Frodo recognized one as the Elrond's, but was unsure of the others. Cautiously, the hobbit poked his head around the door. His blue eyes widened at the scene within.

The Lord of Rivendell sat in an ornate chair on the eastern side of the room, an amused expression on his face and a peculiar glazed look very evident in his eyes. The twin sons of the elf lord, Elladan and Elrohir, were sprawled in a careless tangle of limbs and hair on what Frodo presumed to be Elrond's bed, a magnificent four-poster affair. Arwen was perched opposite her father in an identical chair, looking extremely frustrated. She was holding (and disdainfully eyeing) what appeared to be some sort of curiously-shaped pipe.

'Try it again,' one of the twins mumbled encouragement, without moving.

Arwen shook her head angrily. 'It's not working,' she tersely answered, and immediately dissolved into a coughing fit.

Frodo instantly recognised the sound she made as she gasped for air as the horrible noise which had awoken him. Arwen sounded like a dead Orc was lodged in her throat, or that she was in severe pain and was begging the Valar for permission to die. Possibly both. His mouth dropped open.

Chuckling sounded from the bed as one of the twins began to laugh, and was soon followed by the other.

'Shut up!' Arwen yelled.

This only served to increase the intensity of their laughter. Even Elrond joined in, cackling his mirth to the night.

'Shut UP.' Arwen repeated bitingly.

Hysteria emerged. 'You shut up, you're the idiot making us laugh!' the same twin who had started the whole thing managed to gasp out between breaths.

This managed to calm the others. 'Yes, she always was a slow learner,' the other twin snickered, once he had regained his breath. He rolled heavily over onto his back, managing to hit his brother with an elbow to the neck as he did so.

'Ahh! Watch it!'

'Sorry.'

Arwen glared at them, but said nothing.

Frodo had been dumbfounded by the exchange he had observed, but now snapped back to reality and quickly decided that he should leave. Whatever the Half-elvens were talking to each other about, it was none of his business. He hastily snapped his mouth shut, and reached to close the door.

Unfortunately however, it appeared that even that slightest of sounds was enough to catch the attention of Elrond, the elf closest to where he stood. The wise elf-lord turned to look directly at the intruding hobbit. Frodo froze with fear and guilt, nearly withering before Elrond's piercing grey gaze.

But Rivendell's master showed no anger in his eyes. In fact, Frodo noted, his face held no expression at all. Frodo was just about ready to wonder if Elrond could not see him at all – perhaps another adverse effect from the Ring around his neck – when the elf smiled blearily and said, 'Hello, Frodo.'

As soon as he said it, a muffled noise sounding vaguely like 'It's Frodo?!!' was heard from the bed, as the twin sons of Elrond hurriedly moved to rise. The one lying on his back was already in a precarious position, and was promptly sent tumbling to the floor at Arwen's feet when his brother scrambled over him in a frantic effort to stand up.

'Fuck!!!' came the cry of indignant surprise.

Arwen snickered at the prone form in front of her. 'Elrohir, you retard!' She coughed again.

Some small part of Frodo's mind registered that the twin on the floor was Elrohir, the rest of it was wholly occupied with being completely shocked, for Elladan had bounded over and picked the bewildered hobbit cleanly up from where he was standing. Frodo was swung in a full circle and then sat soundly on the edge of Elrond's bed.

'Hey Frodo!!' Elladan shouted excitedly, crashing back onto the rumpled covers beside him, a manic grin on his face.

Elrohir had picked himself up from the floor. 'Hey, it's the Ring-bearer!' he grinned, his expression exactly identical to his brother's. Frodo found himself swept up again for a bear-hug, and deposited back on the bed. 'How are you, Frodo? Is everything good and stuff like that, you know?' the elf inquired intensely.

The hobbit looked warily at the elf twins, starting to feel somewhat fearful. Bilbo had never mentioned anything like this when describing the Elves.  Was it possible they were all possessed?

'I am well, thank you, Lord Elrohir,' Frodo replied cautiously.

'That's great, that's absolutely terrific,' the other said happily, slapping Frodo heartily on the back.

Elladan lay in a giggling heap.

'You two are disgraceful,' came the voice of the Evenstar. 'I did not ruin my favourite riding clothes flying this dear hobbit to safety only to have my half-witted brothers frighten him to death with their insane ramblings.' She smiled kindly at Frodo. 'Master Frodo, I would rise to embrace you, but' – she coughed fiercely again – 'I am rather indisposed at the moment. In the meantime, just ignore those fools.'

Elladan sat up, laughing gleefully. Assuming her proper elven tone and manner, he declared, 'She's just jealous because we are of a more cheerful disposition than she is capable.' He winked at Frodo.

Arwen hissed in his direction, then raised the odd-looking pipe. 'Father, hit me again,' she said resolutely.

'Noooo,' Elrond groaned despairingly, stretching in his chair. 'Give up, child, before you kill yourself.'

'_Da-ad!!'_

'Alright, alright, don't scream … ' Elrond wearily raised his right hand and muttered something in Elvish.

As Frodo watched in amazement (and Elladan and Elrohir with something like reverence), a thin stream of live fire appeared from the tips of Elrond's fingers, travelled majestically across the room, and entered the bowl of Arwen's pipe.

She breathed in deeply, a look of extreme discomfort on her face. Not two seconds of this activity had ensued before she choked, dropped the pipe in her lap and began coughing and hacking madly.

'For the grace of Elbereth,' Elrond sighed, as Elrohir and Elladan laughed evilly.

'This is stupid!' Arwen spat disgustedly when she had recovered her powers of speech. 'It's just not working!'

'That's because you're not getting anything down,' Elrond explained, with the air of one who has repeated these words an indecent number of times. 'You have to hold it for at least five seconds if you want to get a decent hit.' He rubbed his bloodshot eyes and stretched in his chair. 'I swear, you toke just like your uncle,' he added. 'Elros never was very good at this sort of thing.'

'Are parents not supposed to encourage their young?' Arwen said darkly.

'I will … in the morning.' Elrond closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.

'Father, can you do the fire thing again?' Elrohir asked him, hopefully.

'No.'

'I have a better idea,' Elladan suddenly said. 'Let's get the Ring-bearer high!'

'YES!!' Elrohir shouted his agreement.

They both fixed Frodo with malicious grins.

'I - I beg your pardon?' Frodo squeaked, shrinking away from the sinister-looking pair.

Elrond opened one eye. 'That could be interesting,' he admitted.

Arwen looked upset. 'Wait, firstly I must succeed in this.'

Elladan rolled his eyes. 'Oh give up, you'll never get it right.' He looked at Elrond. 'I told you it was a bad idea to let her try this.'

'Listen, Bane of the Peredhil, my husband-to-be is about to embark on some bloody mission to destroy the Ring of Power, in _case you've forgotten!' Arwen snapped at her brother. 'I would thank you not to begrudge me a pipe of what is __supposed to be the most soothing herb cultivated by our race.'_

'Hey, I've just had a thought,' Elrohir piped up again.

'Oh damn,' Elladan muttered, sharing a fearful look with his sister.

Unperturbed, the younger twin continued, 'I think what we started her out on was too harsh, and so probably our hobbit won't have much luck with it either. Father's got some of the really smooth stuff from Lorien stashed somewhere, isn't that right?'

'Is that right, Father? You've been holding out on us?' Elladan asked, sounding slightly put out.

'I've never heard you complain before,' Elrond snorted. 'But,' he continued, 'since we have an honoured guest and an unusually difficult case with us, I think we can break out the special variety.' He motioned Elladan to a nearby chest of drawers. 'Third on the right.'

'Excellent,' Elrohir grinned as his twin removed a silk drawstring pouch from the specified drawer. 'This is gonna be good …' 

* * * * *

'Oh dear, sweet, outstandingly sexy Estel, why must you leave me?!' Arwen collapsed to her knees, her body shaking with dry sobs as she desperately clutched at her now-vacant chair.

'Whose idea was this, again?' Elrohir said.

'I think it was Lord Elrond's,' Frodo offered, then was suddenly overtaken by a fit of hysterical laughter.

Elrohir and Elladan joined in, and the three laughed until spots appeared before their eyes for lack of oxygen.

'No, no, my lord, do not go!' Arwen tugged at her chair in a frenzy, dragging it slowly across the room with her. 'We haven't even had sex yet!' she shrieked at the unresponsive piece of furniture.

'Damn, this shit is strong,' Elladan commented appreciatively as he watched Arwen's chair walk by itself up a wall and turn into an elderly dwarf.

'What were we talking about?' Frodo wondered.

'I think we were talking about how this whole thing was my idea,' Elladan said.

'I think we were talking about how we should have sex with Aragorn,' Elrohir recalled vaguely.

'No, weren't we talking about how it was Lord Elrond's idea?'

'What was my idea?' Elrond frowned, trying to remember.

'You human bastard! I promised my fucking mortality to you, and you're just going to leave on this stupid quest?!' Arwen aimed a flying blow at her chair, punching a hole through the velvet-covered backrest. 'You feel that? That's what you've done to my heart, you self-righteous prick!'

'Don't cry, Lady Arwen,' Frodo told her gently, turning the full force of his baby-blue eyes on the distraught elf-maid.

Arwen looked tearfully at him. Elrohir attempted to help by saying, 'Arwen, it's just a fucking chair', and failed miserably.

'Aragorn's doing this so he can marry you and be happy,' Frodo explained, after discreetly kicking Elrohir in the spine. 

Arwen snivelled. 'Oh Frodo, I know!' She clambered halfway into the abused chair, sobbing softly. 'Estel … I'm sorry …'

'Well that shut her up. Good work, Frodo.' Elladan commended.

'I've remembered,' Elrond suddenly said. 'It wasn't my idea.'

'To have sex with Aragorn?' Frodo asked.

'No … ' Elrond stopped mid-sentence. 'Shit, I forgot again.'

'It wasn't your idea to smoke the Lorien stash,' Elladan supplied helpfully.

'Yes it was,' Elrohir said.

'No, I'm pretty sure it was Gandalf's,' Elrond affirmed triumphantly.

'Oh, yeah.'

Frodo looked at him in amazement. 'Gandalf's in on this?'

'He was here before you came in,' Arwen replied, still clutching the chair. 'Now, where did he go off to? It was somewhere important.'

'I really wanna see Gandalf, where is he?' Frodo leaped to his feet in excitement, bobbing up and down on the mattress.

'He died, didn't he?' Elrohir was puzzled.

'WHAT?!!' shrieked Frodo.

'Ass!' Arwen snapped at her brother. 'He escaped from Isengard, remember?'

'Did he?'

'Yes, he did!!' Frodo cried joyously. 'I remember! We have to go find him.'

'He went to get food for us.' Elrond had to repeat this several times before his words penetrated through the others' arguing, and into his own mind. The elf-lord's eyes widened in panic. 'Oh, SHIT!'

'Fuck, I'm hungry,' Arwen murmured to herself.

'You let _Gandalf loose by himself?!' Elladan cried, horrified. 'But he was totally fucked!'_

'I was totally fucked as well!' Elrond defended himself.

'Gandalf has food? We've _got to find him,' Frodo insisted._

'Agreed.' Elrond rose from his chair with difficulty. 'He'll completely trash the place if we don't.' The Master of Rivendell balanced unsteadily on his feet, then staggered toward the door. 'We must hurry!'

I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've posted here, but my short-term memory is not to be trusted. If people review and/or flame me I'll put more chapters up. If people don't review and/or flame me I'll still put more chapters up because I've already written quite a few, an endeavour undertaken a few months back after I saw FOTR while stoned. Has anyone else think that the music they play during the Shire scenes is REALLY buzzy?


	2. The Fellowship of the Stoned

Oh goody, a flame and a couple of reviews. Here's the next bit.

'What the fuck are we doing here?' Elrohir asked nobody in particular.

The quest to find Gandalf had gone very smoothly until the company had come upon the obstacle of the staircase.

Elrond had been the first to shriek and fall, grabbing wildly at Arwen as he did, who in turn screamed and grabbed onto one of the twins. Within the comfortable space of three seconds, they were all tumbling down in a howling mass, resulting in a bruised collection of bodies piled at the bottom of the stairs. They had remained there laughing for twenty minutes, until Elrohir posed the critical question.

'Uhhh …' his twin considered intelligently.

'I am _so hungry,' Frodo interrupted Elladan's train of thought._

'Ai Elbereth yes, I need food,' Arwen groaned, struggling to free herself from the tangle of elves and hobbit.

A robed arm protruded from the centre of the hapless pile, and flailed around until it grasped onto something solid (a banister, as it turned out). Elrond hauled himself upright, ordering the others to do the same. 'Okay, onward to the kitchens,' the elf-lord commanded as soon as they were all standing. His eyes narrowed, and he strode forward with as much lordly purpose as he could muster. 'Must find Gandalf!'

'And food,' Arwen added, trailing behind him with the others.

'Yeah, that too.'

At length the company of Elves and hobbit arrived at the kitchens of the Last Homely House, in a chorus of splendidly tuneless song.

'The road goes ever on and on …' Frodo, the instigator, went on after the others had silenced.

'Shh,' Elladan whispered. 'I hear something.'

Frodo paused and listened. Unusual sounds, like muffled crashes and shouts, could be heard even through the heavy wooden doors that were the entrance to the main kitchen. Suddenly, the loud, unmistakable voice of Gandalf boomed, 'BACK, spawn of darkness! You have met your DOOM!'

Elrohir, who could barely smoke Old Toby without getting paranoid, screeched and leaped onto Elladan's back. 'Oh shit, it's Sauron, Sauron's here, quick somebody HIDE THAT FUCKING RING!!!'

Arwen scowled and smacked her hysterical sibling on the back of the head, causing the elder twin to stumble and curse. Reaching down to pry the now-petrified Frodo off of her leg, she spoke words of comfort to the hobbit. 'Don't listen to him, dear. Sauron's in Mordor, remember? He can't hurt you.'

'Yeah, but he's going to Mordor soon anyway,' Elladan pointed out neutrally, apparently undisturbed by the fact that his twin was clinging to his back like a starfish.

The Evenstar sighed forcefully in exasperation. 'Will you just die!' she shouted. 'Oh, no, not you, Frodo,' she hastened to reassure the small creature, who had let out a terrified squeak, and retreated beneath her skirts. 'Frodo, please come out …' Arwen sighed, looking down at the hobbit-shaped lump protruding from the side of her gown.

'Will you all stop arseing about, we've got to stop Gandalf before he destroys my house!' Elrond barked, snapping his children out of their argument. He marched to the kitchen doors, kicked them open, and looked back expectantly. 'Come on.'

'Fuck that, Sauron's in there and we don't even have swords!' Elrohir objected shrilly.

'He is not, Gandalf's hallucinating again, you dork!' Elladan rolled his eyes. Ignoring Elrohir's fear, he moved to join their father, followed by Arwen who was only slightly hampered by the skirt-covered Frodo being firmly wrapped around her with aid of both arms and legs.

They had barely advanced two steps into the kitchen before they caught sight of their prey, who was directly in the middle of what could only be described as a rampage.

'What the – DUCK!!' Elrond bellowed.

The company dropped to the floor just in time to escape a lightening flash of blue fire that shot over their heads and ignited the wall behind them.

'GANDALF!' shrieked Frodo, as the Elves madly scurried for cover behind a long bench next to the right-hand door. Arwen crashed headlong onto the floor behind the table, the impact jarring Frodo from her leg, only for him to become lodged further up her gown. Everyone but the imprisoned hobbit helped to flip the heavy bench sideways, forming a protective barrier between themselves and the raging Gandalf.

'You fool me NOT, beasts of shadow!!' the wizard roared, raising his staff again. 'I see your ruined forms, and I tell you now, I shall not be overcome by mere orcs!!!'

'Grrrnnnfff!' came the distraught hobbit's cry, muffled by Arwen's bodice. 

'Don't you realize who you're dealing with?!' Gandalf ranted on. 'I am a Maia, you pitiful creatures, and what is more I AM A BAD MAN!!' More furious jets of flame poured from the wizard's staff with each pronouncement, setting various parts of the room ablaze. 'Emissary of the Valar, Councillor of the Wise, Possessor of the Kindler! PERISH before the power of the Grey!!!!!'

It was at around this point that Frodo realized he had other problems besides that of an Istar run amok. He was rapidly running out of air. Twisting frantically within his confines, he sought desperately for escape, ripping the stitching of Arwen's fine garment and stretching the cloth as he did so, not hearing the elf-lady's alarmed protests. He finally managed to get free thanks to the mercifully low neckline of her gown.

'Gandalf!' the hobbit howled, gasping for air as he erupted through the silky fabric, smacking Arwen in the chin as he did so.

'Elbereth!' the disgruntled and very stoned maiden thought nothing of picking Frodo out of her cleavage and hurling him to the floor.

'Ow … Gandalf…' the Ring-bearer moaned weakly, twitching and holding his bruised skull.

'Frodo?!' a frantic voice called from the opposite end of the kitchen.

'Frodo!' another yelled.

'Merry? Pippin?' With this and his recent concussion, Frodo was stupefied.

Elrond, meanwhile, had heard enough of his friend's hysterics. 'Gandalf, you DUMB FUCK!! You're in Imladris, you're completely fucking wasted and Eru only knows what weird shit you think you're seeing but it's NOT REAL!!!' he bellowed.

'What are you two doing down here?' Frodo yelled at his unseen cousins.

'Elrond?' Gandalf stopped on his path of destruction abruptly and looked around in confusion.

'We were hungry and came down for a snack!' Pippin's voice came back in reply.

'But Gandalf was here first and now he's trying to kill us! No big deal, really!' Merry added.

'Oh!' Frodo shouted back.

'Elrond, I cannot see you,' Gandalf called out hesitantly.

'I'm hiding because I don't want you to kill me,' Elrond explained matter-of-factly, using the direct sort of tone he only reserved for the extremely stoned. 'I have a family to look after, plus this whole lord of the valley gig really takes up a lot of my time, what with trying to keep free trade going between here and Mirkwood – you know what a stingey bitch Thranduil can be. And don't get me started on Galadriel, that elf gets on my last nerve –'

'Shut up!' Gandalf said suddenly. He dropped his staff and put both hands on his head. 'By the stars, I have one Balrog of a headache!'

'Does this mean that we, your friends, can emerge from hiding without fear for our lives?' Elrond inquired earnestly, taking care to clearly enunciate the words.

'No!' Gandalf snapped, quickly stooping to pick up his staff again. 'If you truly are Elrond Earendil's son you will know how to prove yourself!'

'Well, that would figure,' the elf lord conceded with admirable patience, thinking that now would really be a good time for another hit.

Gandalf considered a moment, still clutching his staff defensively. 'If you are Elrond,' he said at last, 'speak of what you confided to me on New Year's eve four and fifty years past!'

Elrond paled. 'You've got to be joking.'

'You will speak!' Gandalf commanded.

'But – but I can't! Not here!' Elrond refused vehemently. 'Not in front of my Eru-damned kids!'

'You've got a secret, Father?' Elladan's interest was piqued as he studied the ashen face of his parent. 'Come on, you can tell us.'

'He'd better tell, or I'll burn this entire room to the ground,' Gandalf threatened.

'It appears that you don't have a choice,' Elrohir observed with a faint grin. 

'No. Fucking. Way.' Their father bit out, glaring at his twin sons. Both parties knew that the brothers had an ulterior motive besides that of Rivendell's continued existence, being that both were entirely unable to resist a good piece of gossip.

'You've got three seconds,' Gandalf said airily, raising his staff for effect.

'Hang on, I wonder if he'll actually do it?' Frodo thought out loud, the lust of the stoner for a potential adrenalin rush written clearly on his face.

'No!' the more experienced Elrohir reprimanded him tightly, getting paranoid again when he remembered all the times he'd been burnt by curiosity.

'Two!'

'Could we hurry this up, please, I'd still like to get a snack! And live!' Merry shouted nervously.

'Gandalf, you son of a fucking Orc, when I get you straight I'm going to RIP OUT YOUR IMMORTAL INTESTINES AND CHOKE YOU TO DEATH WITH THEM!!!!' Elrond roared in a fury that made the table tremble.

'Tell it to the Council! Two-and-a-half!'

'Just tell us, Father!'

'Dad, you've got to!'

'Please, Lord Elrond!'

'Yeah, this can't be more important than our lives!'

'One! Time's up!' Gandalf announced, white-hot fire building on the tip of his staff.

 'Gandalf, NOOOOO!!!' Frodo cried, as the intense flame grew to eyebrow-singeing proportions.

'WAIT!!'

There was silence. Then, finally, a disheartened sigh was heard.

'Alright.'

Ok, do your review/flame thing. Jesus, did you guys know that they actually SEND reviews to your email? That's so sad, I'll bet there are some people out there who get so goddamn excited when they see that happy little FanFiction Review Alert! message in their Inbox. It's actually quite funny! It's an Alert! Heh. Is this like a battle situation? Review alert status, authorisation Picard alpha-nine-red? Ah, the amusment of the stoner.


	3. Some Stuff Happens

Oh bloody hell, I forgot to do that disclaimer thing back in chapter one. I DON'T OWN ANYTHING. There. That'll do.

This chapter has pretty much no plot, I wrote most of it while under the influence (surprised?). Also it has a few slashy-type references, so I'm hoping that'll get me some nice flames.

Okeyday then, story time …

'Must … kill … thing!! Arrghh!!' Arwen shrieked, pissed beyond the point of coherence as she struggled against the unbreakable grip of her elder brothers.

Elrond stood in a state of shock as his daughter was claimed by madness. Gandalf, having finally reaffirmed his alliance with the Lord of Rivendell, had made short work of extinguishing the kitchen's blazes and now waited in respectful silence beside him.

'Can't … not …blood … have … destroy!!!'

'I think she's taking it well, considering,' Elrohir commented to Elladan as their younger sibling futilely raged against their restraint. His brother shot him a disbelieving look in return.

'Gandalf … I can't believe you actually did that to me,' Elrond croaked weakly.

The wizard looked uncomfortable. 'Sorry, m'lord, it was strong shit, you know?'

Elrond sighed. 'Now she's completely over-reacting. I knew this would happen.'

'OVER-REACTING?!?!!' Somehow those words had penetrated the dense cloud of insane rage that fogged Arwen's mind. 'I FIND OUT YOU'VE SLEPT WITH MY BETROTHED AND YOU CALL IT FUCKING OVER-REACTING?!!'

'Arwen …'

'SAVE IT!!'

'… it was before he even met you,' Elrond went on anyway. 'He was just this horny kid who had a crush on me – like you can blame him. I wasn't interested of course – oh, no offense … But yeah, well, you know how persistent he can be.'

'When you think about it, persistence is a good thing for a future king to have,' Gandalf put in, trying to be helpful.

'Don't you dare try to blame this on him!' Arwen hissed lividly, completely ignoring the Maia. 'To think I respected you above all others, Father, one who would seduce an innocent mortal entrusted to his care.'

'Like Mandos' Halls I did!' Elrond retorted. 'Look, it was only once, on the eve of his twentieth year. Despite popular opinion, I'm not made of stone, and the cunning bastard drugged my miruvor with something that would make Trolls look attractive!'

'So you admit, you enjoyed it! You sick excuse for an Eldar, I swear I'll hate you forever for this!'

The elf-lord rolled his eyes. 'On a brighter note, I seem to recall at last that all of this is Elrohir's fault. "Oh, do let's smoke the Lorien blend, Father, it'll be so much fun!"' he mimicked in a disparaging falsetto voice.

The younger son of Elrond's cheeks flushed slightly. 'Er … sorry,' he mumbled, concentrating on holding Arwen, who wasn't really fighting anymore.

'By the Shire, that's right. It _was Elrohir's idea,' Frodo said in wonder, as if this was the most important fact ever revealed in Middle-earth._

His cousins fixed him with twin looks of confusion. 'Frodo, are you feeling –' Merry was cut off as a horrifying, if belated, thought occurred to Gandalf.

'Elrond!' the wizard cried suddenly. 'You did the Lorien stash without me?!!'

The elf-lord glared at him. 'You're in no position to be indignant about _anything, you hypersensitive git!'_

'Hey, I apologized, didn't I! Furthermore you did it before I forced you to admit your repressed bisexuality. That's just cold, Elrond.'

'Oh shut up. There's plenty left upstairs, besides.'

'Excellent,' the Maia said, abruptly taking off in the direction of Elrond's suite.

'Wait, Wizard of Pyromania, you're going nowhere alone,' Elrond growled, moving to follow him.

'Stop!!' the icy voice of the Evenstar halted their attempt at migration. 'Nobody is doing anything until we find Aragorn! I want to hear his side of the story.' Her resolute glare held no room for argument.

The House of Elrond was really, really big, Frodo realized as the company, lead by Arwen and comprising three bewildered hobbits, a pair of vastly amused elf twins, unhappy Istar and another resigned elf, progressed toward Aragorn's quarters at the easternmost wing of Elrond's home.

Arwen stopped outside her betrothed's rooms. 'Wait here,' she ordered crisply, then flung open the door. 'ESTEL!!!' came the furious bellow as Arwen stormed inside.

'This should be good,' Elrohir commented.

Elrond was rubbing his temples, the twins were grinning like maniacs and Gandalf was impatiently shifting from one foot to the other, desperately craving a hit of Lorien's specialty. Merry and Pippin merely awaited the outcome of the confrontation with due trepidation. Frodo, having defensively positioned himself behind Gandalf, took to counting the seconds before the inevitable unpleasant reaction erupted from within.

He got as far as three before it happened. A resounding thud came from inside, then a voice cried out in alarm and a scuffle of sorts was heard.

'Ai Elbereth, what now?' Elrond groaned.

'I think she killed him,' Elladan guessed, after a moment.

Elrohir burst out laughing.

'The line of kings is broken at last. Looks like the world of Men's had it, then,' Gandalf supposed, then shrugged. 'Ah well, we tried.'

There was nothing to do but enter the room. The entire company was halted once more by perhaps the most unlikely sight the night had yet offered them.

Crouched over the unconscious body of Arwen Undomiel was Aragorn son of Arathorn, wearing nothing but a strategically placed pillow and a look of grave concern. Standing behind him, attired in a rumpled sheet and a furious blush, was Legolas, elven prince of Mirkwood. A tangled trail of blankets lead from Aragorn's bed to the fainted Evenstar, dragged with the pair during their frantic rush to her side.

'Well, well, Aragorn,' Elladan beamed, his smile so big it looked as though his face would crack. 'Haven't you been getting around!'

Aragorn and Legolas looked up with twin expressions of discomfiture. There was a long pause, as though each party was waiting for the other to speak first.

'Anyone for a hit?' Elrond finally said.

'Estel ... you bastard …' Arwen murmured, gradually pulling herself out of unconsciousness. 'You … how could you even look at another maiden …'

Legolas started a bit at that comment.

'She must not have seen your face before she passed out,' Aragorn offered to his offended lover, which didn't really help much.

'Just because we must be married …. before consummating our love …. you go and screw some cheap whore –' Arwen's brow furrowed and she twitched in agitation.

Legolas lowered his eyes, trying hard to ignore the twin sons of Elrond, who were shaking with restrained laughter.

Aragorn and Legolas, the only two in the company who weren't stoned, had transported Arwen back to Elrond's chamber so the Elven healer could revive her. At least, that had been the plan. It turned out, rather unsurprisingly, that Elrond was in no condition to revive anything because he couldn't remember the correct incantations. He had settled for flicking drops from his least-favourite cologne vial over his daughter, hoping that the sensation would prove annoying enough for her to abandon oblivion.

Gandalf, having at last attained the burning plant of his desire, was having a terrific sort of joyfully wasted buzz. He sat in Elrond's chair mumbling cheerfully to himself and occasionally being overtaken by fits of hilarity. Surrounding him were the three hobbits, perched unmoving at the wizard's feet. Frodo had convinced his cousins to try the mysterious pipeweed, and had himself inhaled far more than earlier. The result was that the Halflings could now do little more than stare wonderingly around the room, all caught in contentedly stupefied trances.

'Ack!' Arwen yelped, coming awake with a jolt as Elrond lost patience and poured the entire vial over her head. She raised herself to a sitting position unsteadily. 'By the Lady, what happened?' the Evenstar murmured, blinking heavily.

'You fainted because you walked in on Aragorn and Legolas doing the nasty,' Elrohir informed his sister.

'Thank you, son, that was very tactful,' Elrond sighed, wondering why in Arda he'd ever had children.

'And you're also pissed because Father did it with Aragorn one time,' the oblivious younger twin continued cheerfully.

'That could be our cue to get out of here,' Elrond quickly resolved, after a look at his daughter's bemused expression. 'I want to be situated nowhere near this vicinity when she figures out how to speak again.'

The others agreed, though mainly because of his impressive use of polysyllabic words. Elrond dragged Gandalf out of his chair to the door, while his sons herded the hobbits in the same direction. Aragorn and Legolas, brave warriors that they were, stayed for Arwen's imminent explosion of wrath.

The door slammed behind them.

'What are we going to do now?' Elladan wondered aloud.

'I miss Sam,' Frodo said, sounding forlorn.

The other hobbits supported the notion that Sam was definitely needed. The elves were fine with that idea, while Gandalf was too fucked to really notice.

'Sounds like a plan,' Elrond decided, tucking his smoking gear into the pocket of his robe. 'Let's go corrupt the nice little chap, shall we?'

The company set off once more, their deranged cackles echoing throughout the silent halls.


	4. Some Other Stuff Happens

Samwise Gamgee slumbered peacefully, the first decent sleep he'd enjoyed since his master had been wounded by the Ringwraiths. Since that terrible night, his worry for his dear Mr. Frodo had invaded nearly every part of his consciousness, so that even his dreams were interrupted by grotesque visions of his gentle hobbit master's peril. Though he did not know it, his tranquil sleep was the work of one of Elrond's spells, for the Lord of Rivendell, in one of his many moments of stoned reflection, had seen how the relentless care for his master had taxed the young hobbit.

It was also the reason that he had not awoken with Frodo, despite his room being directly beside his master's, and why Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Gandalf and his elf hosts were quite unable to wake him now.

'Sam, get up, Sam!' Frodo whined, standing over his unconscious manservant.

'Gosh, my brain is cool,' Pippin commented obscurely.

'What?' Merry turned to his best friend in confusion.

Pippin giggled. 'No seriously, my brain is way fucking perceptive right now. It feels so weird – hey wait a minute, I can actually _feel my brain!! You never feel your brain, it's just always there and you don't think about it, but right now my brain and I are in a very deep relationship.'_

'Right …' Merry said slowly, trying to take in all the words.

'Can you feel your brain, Merry?'

His cousin broke into hard laughter. 'I can so feel my brain, Pip!'

The younger hobbit joined in. 'Isn't it the best?'

Gandalf, sitting on the edge of Sam's bed, cursed in his mind when he heard the hobbits' high-pitched mirth. The wizard had already been staring into space and laughing uncontrollably for the past half-hour, and was by now urgently sensing he needed to stop and take a few deep breaths to get his blood oxygenated again. He had nearly succeeded in choking off his fit but was effectively screwed when Merry and Pippin started to indulge in theirs. Laughter was always contagious after a Lorien hit. 

The entire company laughed for another fifteen minutes about their respective brains before someone gathered themselves enough to yell a hoarse 'Shut up!' at the group in general. Only Gandalf could not stop, but the rest of them ignored him.

'Ok, we've really got to wake up Sam now,' Frodo said seriously.

'Can't help you, Frodo,' Elrond said. 'I've tried everything I can think of.'

'You said one spell, and I think it was for puffiness in marshmallow squares.'

'It was a Valinor spell, and those poor bastards don't even know the recipe for marshmallow squares.'

'Damn it! We forgot to get munchies!' Elladan realised with a start. He shared a look of horror with his twin.

'This is an emergency,' Merry said in a low voice.

'I am going to die of starvation if we don't get some food,' Pippin sounded weak from hunger.

'But we still have to wake Sam!' Frodo pouted, looking dolefully at his gardener.

'Oh, ok,' Pippin murmured. Leaning down to the sleeping hobbit's ear, he whispered: 'Whatever shall we do, Mr. Frodo has broken a nail!'

Immediately, Sam awakened and jolted upright.

'Right, let's go,' Pippin announced.

'This is a fine plant, and no mistake,' Sam slurred. He stared desperately around him through eyes that were half-shut. 'Laced with the elf-magic to be sure.'

'Laced,' Elrohir repeated to Elladan, and they giggled.

The now eight-strong company was on its way back to the kitchens. The twins skipped ahead, leapfrogging over each other and cheerfully injuring themselves on ornamental statues. The hobbits followed, engaged in a slow-moving conversation that they nonetheless found utterly fascinating. Elrond came last, leading a stumbling and miserably hysterical Gandalf behind him. 

They reached their destination in surprisingly good time, and straightaway fell to attacking the contents of Elrond's pantries with desperate relish. The hobbits were surprised and delighted to find many of the delicacies of the Shire contained within.

'Elbereth be praised, COOKIES!!' Elrohir shrieked through a mouthful of potato crisps, spotting the beautiful glint of the confection's silver box. He lunged for the container and, after a stressful battle with the latch to open it, grabbed a handful of the sugar-coated biscuits.

'This is the best meal I've ever had,' Sam realised as the cookies were passed around.

'I know, me too,' Merry agreed vehemently.

'Food is way good,' Pippin added.

Frodo nodded, busy shovelling down spoonfuls of strawberry icecream.

'Popcorn's ready!' Elrond called from one of the hearths, where he had started a small blaze to prepare the snack. (A/N: Do not try this at home, fire is hazardous, _especially when stoned.)_

'Icecream is the most perfect of all foods,' Frodo decided, rather randomly. 'Filling, yet refreshingly liquid, and also sweet at the same time,' he elaborated in a strangely poetic voice.

'That's so deep, Frodo,' Pippin said, awestruck.

'And so true,' Sam added, by now busy with his own bowl of the celebrated ice confection.

'You're a genius, Frodo!' Merry exclaimed. 'You have, just now, figured out the inner secret nature of Middle-earth's greatest creation!'

The other Hobbits cheered, but Frodo looked blank. Then, an expression of utmost dismay appeared on his elven features. 'Oh NO!!' the Ring-bearer cried, looking much as he had just after being stabbed by the Nazgul.

'What?! What is it Mr. Frodo?!' His emotional reflexes aided by the weed, Sam had transformed from being quietly reflective to rabidly paranoid in the space between a second.

'Well I've gone and fucking well ruined it now!' Frodo said wretchedly. 'Once the untimate secret of something is revealed, it's magic stops working! Everyone knows that!'

'What?' Sam repeated, scratching his head.

'The magic!' Frodo wailed. 'The magic of icecream …' The distraught hobbit scooped a spoonful from the bowl in front of him into his mouth. 'See!' he shouted, his face screwing up in disgust. 'This tastes like crap! It's all over.'

Merry and Pippin exchanged frantic glances, then dove simultaneously for the bowl to try for themselves.

'He's right!' Pippin shrieked, his mouth covered in the pale strawberry pink. 'This is gross!' He glared daggers at Frodo. 'You! You scum of the Shire!' he hissed, before launching himself visiously at his one-time friend.

'Yes, kill him! Murderer of icecream!' Merry yelled, joining in.

'Noooo!' Sam shrieked, rushing into the fray of struggling hobbits in attempt to save his master.

'This is as funny as fuck,' Elrohir observed, looking with eager eyes upon the hobbit-brawl from where he sat close to the combating Halflings, along with the rest of the snacking chronics. 

'Yeah, you can tell they don't do this often,' Elrond chuckled.

'Ha, try never!' Elladan said, smirking.

'This night has undoubtedly provided the best forms of entertainment I've ever seen,' Elrohir reflected with a blissful sigh.

'You say that every time,' his twin reminded him, lazily twirling a half-eaten sugarcane.

'Yeah, why the fuck do you think I keep on doing it?' the other grinned.

The pair shared a clumsy (and sticky) high five and more insane laughter.

'But we've taken a sort of virginity here,' Elladan tried to consider, which was difficult as he was trying to stop giggling at the same time. 'It kind of makes me feel mean!' he gasped between breaths.

'Me too!' Elrond chortled, equally unconcerned. 'We're so evil.'

'Totally, we should be the Dark Lords instead of that Sauron bitch,' Elrohir decided.

'He _is such a bitch – I met him, once,' Elrond recalled, looking thoughtfully into space._

'Whatever,' Gandalf mumbled into his popcorn, the first contribution he'd made to the conversation in some minutes.

'No, I'm serious! It was that Last Alliance deal down in Mordor. Honest to Eru,' Elrond told them. 'He got all bitchy because we were beating his Orcs down by the horde, then dragged his shadowy arse out of Mount Doom with his Ring. Big man gotta have his big Ring.' Elrond snorted contemptuously. 'Makes you wonder what he's compensating for. And I'll tell you this, he was nothing without the damn thing. Fell to pieces as soon as he lost it. What a bitch.'

The twins looked at their father with new-found respect, oblivious to the fact that they'd heard this story three-hundred times before.

'Fuck, why are we even afraid of this guy?' Elrohir thought out loud. 'He hasn't even got the Ring now.'

'He's got Orcs,' Elrond reminded him.

'And that other bitch, Saruman,' Gandalf added gloomily.

'But couldn't we just beat them down? By the horde?'

Elrond stretched and yawned. 'No, that'd take too long. Those things breed even faster than Men. Like rabbits. There aren't enough Elves left, and Men are all scattered and shit. Best to just go with that Council plan, I think.'

Elrohir looked disappointed. 'Oh. Well, we've still got the bitch's Ring!' he grinned.

They all began laughing again.

** Yeah, ok, sorry this chapter's late and all. And thanks to all who reviewed, I'm glad some other peeps are getting a kick out of this. I'll try to include some of those plot development thingies next time. Cheers. **


	5. Of Stars and Stairs

The Hobbits had worn themselves out pretty quickly, and with Gandalf's assurance that they'd forget everything after they'd gone to sleep, thus restoring the fair magic of icecream, the agitated Halflings were sufficiently placated to form a truce of non-violence.

The twin sons of Elrond had just finished blending some Lorien leaf with a selection of Rivendell's finest, fired up and were stretched out against one of the room's benches, eyes closed, engaged in a joint (A/N: no pun intended) trip of glorious proportions.

Elrond eyed them somewhat wistfully. It was times like this that he really missed his brother – the only time, in fact. The little twerp had never been good for anything much besides a frequent agony aunt and an occasional smoking buddy, and the latter was only because their weed-enhanced twin link made for some excellent trips. 

To orc-pits with it, Elrond thought. He looked instead at his hobbit guests, who were still entirely ravenous. 'How much can they possibly eat without killing themselves?' he wondered aloud, looking with a queer sort of awe at the gorging Halflings. It had to be admitted, the hobbits were naturals. But even feats of physical endurance could not hold the dismal attention span of the Lord of Imladris indefinitely. He decided that another pipe was in order.

'Gandalf!!' He shouted deliberately into the ear of his remaining companion, whose attention was currently wholly occupied by some pretty shards of starlight shining through the hole in the ceiling – one of the ones that he had burned earlier.

'Fuck! What?!' The wizard jolted out of his reverie with less than his typical grace.

'Whatchya doing?' Elrond beamed cheerily. 

The Maia was silent for about fifteen seconds, then said: 'Stars.'

Elrond thought about this for a while. 'You're doing stars?'

'No ….. stars.'

'I getchya. Want another smoke?'

'Stars are so wise,' Gandalf insisted solemnly.

'I know, man, I know,' his friend soothed. 'C'mon, let's blaze.' He began packing a bowl.

'And they're soft.'

'Are they?' Elrond murmured absently, concentrating on his task. Usually Rivendell's lord appreciated and enjoyed Elbereth's work greatly – he was an elf, after all. A _stoner elf, no less. But some things just took precedence. When you're a four-thousand-year-old immortal with a dependence on a certain leaf that's built up over most of that time, stars, like everything, can wait._

'So,' the stoner elf said, raising the pipe to his lips and taking a smooth draw, after handing Gandalf his own pre-packed bowl. He exhaled gracefully, the billowing smoke taking on the shape of an oak tree. 'I wonder how Arwen's getting on?'

'She'll be fine,' Gandalf said, though it was uncertain on what he based this statement, and made an eagle to fly over Elrond's tree. His voice took on a thoughtful tone, it appeared he had forgotten about the softness of stars. 'Aragorn's the one we should be worried about.'

'He's not even stoned, he could take her.'

'No, I mean … like, the divided kingdom.'

'Oh,' Elrond replied, not quite getting where the Maia was going with this.

'Start paying attention to the boy, Elrond,' Gandalf seemed suddenly serious. 

'What are you talking about, I've been training his slow mortal arse in armaments since he could walk.'

'Among other things,' the wizard couldn't help quipping. 'It's the destiny of the world I'm talking about,' he quickly went on, before the smoulder beginning in Elrond's eyes could lead to any damage. 'We've got a job to do.'

'You're not making any sense.' Elrond raised his pipe again, fire appearing on his fingertips.

'Hang on a bit, this is important, it's our duty - '

'Is Manwe guilt-tripping you again or something?' The elf-lord paused, looking up to the Western sky with suspicion. 'Just relax! Take another toke and you can do your happy-mental thing again, you love that.'

'Elrond! Listen to me, man!' Gandalf's gaze was pleading.

''Kay.'

'The deal is, right,' the Maia continued, 'Aragorn is supposed to reunite his people, Men, right, to take over after we leave.'

'Wish he'd hurry up about it,' Elrond grumbled. 'I've been living with this décor for millennia!'

'It's nice.'

'Go on,' the other sighed.

'Well, anyway, how is he going to do that if he's not even up to the challenge of staying loyal to one elf-maid? With character like that, the Ring is going to fuck him up big-time.' Gandalf shook his shaggy head gravely. 'We've got to get the boy back on track.'

'It's on my To Do List,' Elrond promised him, and resumed his toke. 'Oh yeah, that's the shit,' he smiled deliriously, having this time exhaled a mallorn. Elrond had a thing about trees, and olvar in general. They were all so content just to exist, and so delightfully quiet – something any parent of three could appreciate, especially after a few thousand years.

Gandalf was satisfied with that, and returned to his happy-mental state of mind.

And so it went on. The company smoked, laughed, and were merry. But it could not last forever.

'I have never been so bushed in my fucking life,' Elrohir summed up the group's general feeling with a groan.

'You say that every time,' Elladan murmured, all but passed out against the bench. 

'Sleepy time?' Elrond queried, already knowing the answer as he mentally prepared himself for the mission of standing up.

It was unanimously affirmative. The trashed fellowship wearily employed whatever means at their disposal to raise themselves into vertical persuasion and trudged toward their rooms.

'Which wayzit?' Pippin slurred, his eyes reduced to a blurry line of lashes.

'Door,' Merry advised, simultaneously pointing to the kitchen exit and whacking his hand hard on the table corner. He barely noticed.

The walk back to the Last Homely House's western quarters actually lifted some of the fog from the minds of the elves, hobbits and wizard, making them feel somewhat revitalized. But stoners cannot be easily deterred from sleep after a smoking binge.

'Fuck. I forgot about the stairs,' Gandalf stated ruefully as the company came to a halt.

'I don't think I can do it,' Elrohir confessed.

'Yes you can.' His twin grabbed his arm and began the slow ascension. The others trailed behind.

'Thank the Lady,' Elrohir puffed when they finally reached the summit. He nudged Elladan when his swimming vision had returned to normal. 'Check it out.'

The elf gestured to an unlikely pair standing quite still on a spot near the Shards of Narsil. Curiosity unhindered by fatigue, the company migrated on over.

'Hey Boromir, Gimli,' Elladan smiled. 'What's up?

'Hey,' Boromir returned good-naturedly, a rather stupid grin on his face.

Gimli didn't respond, but was looking blankly at a point past Merry's shoulder. It did not appear that he had registered either the greeting or the question.

'Tried some of that leaf I gave you, then?' Elladan quickly surmised.

Boromir blinked. 'Oh, yeah, yeah. Great quality, thanks.'

'No problem. What are you guys up to?'

'Yeah, where are we going?' Gimli asked Boromir, his train of thought finally flowing into the conversation.

The tall Man started. 'Oh, wow, you're still here.'

Gimli laughed, the sound a rumbling wheeze. 'Whoa dude, you are wasted!'

'We're all wasted,' Gandalf put in, sagely. 'Can't you feel the energies of enlightenment shooting between our minds?'

The hobbits chirped agreement while the elves' already wide grins intensified with this welcome knowledge.

'Yup,' Boromir said happily. 'Let's all hold hands, feel the good vibes … '

'Truly, Boromir, you are one of us,' Gandalf said benevolently as they moved into a rough circle.

'Thanks, Mithrandir. I know we've never seen eye to eye, what with my father thinking you're a stupid prick and all, but I want you to know I think you're an awesomely happening sort of guy.'

'Back at ya. So, why are you two standing around out here, anyway?' the wizard inquired presently, as the company exchanged the good vibes.

'Dunno. This was his idea,' Gimli said, looking at Boromir.

'Ahh …' the Man stared hard into space, concentrating. 'Let's see … I met up with Gimli here a few hours back.'

'And he had that weed on him,' the Dwarf supplied helpfully.

'Yeah, so we went back to his room to try it out - '

'Had a bloody good conversation after that,' Gimli remembered.

'Yeah!' Boromir agreed, laughing. 'I never got why you Dwarves are so into mining, but damned if gold and gems aren't _the shiniest shit!'_

Elrond grinned. 'This is just occurring to you now?'

'Don't you love how you REALISE stuff?' Sam around as meaningfully as he could through hooded eyes.

'YES!!' the other hobbits and Boromir shouted together, while the elves and Gimli cracked up.

'And, then?' Frodo eventually pressed when the laughter had died down.

'And then … ' Gimli squinted his eyes in thought. 'And then, Boromir had this idea, like he wanted to visit somebody.'

'It wouldn't be Aragorn by any chance?' Frodo giggled with uncharacteristic impishness.

A trickle of laughter passed through the assembled, with the exception of Elrond and the newcomers.

'Yup, Aragorn,' Boromir affirmed obliviously. 'That's right. But I can't remember where his quarters are.'

Silence fell. The lord of Gondor found himself with ten pairs of questioning eyes fixed on him.

'You want to visit Aragorn?' Elladan said suspiciously. 'For a session?'

'No,' Boromir replied. 'Just … to visit.'

'Unbelievable,' Elrohir muttered under his breath.

'Probably a coincidence,' Elrond murmured to Gandalf, who was now looking rather dismayed.

'Well,' Frodo beamed, looking less and less like the sweet innocent hobbit with each passing moment, 'let's go find him, shall we?'

'Alrighty,' Boromir smiled back.

Sam shot Frodo a concerned look. Sadism wasn't usually his master's thing … usually. Was it the leaf or the Ring affecting him? The stout hobbit resolved to keep a closer eye on Frodo.

The others were not so paranoid – they thought it was a fucking brilliant idea, actually. Only good could come from Frodo's suggestion. Just what could be defined as 'good' by a fellowship of stoners remained to be seen.

**Thanks and all that for the reviews. You lot have given me some nice ideas for how to proceed with this fic. I think I will make Legolas a total straight, thanks to whoever put that idea in my head. Oh, and to whoever said something about it, I think Istari is the plural form of Istar. Am probably wrong, but. Elvish grammar is elusive.**


	6. Of Nymphomania and Nostalgia

The company had nearly reached Aragorn's quarters before someone came to the soul-wrenching realisation that they'd left him in Elrond's room. A loud collective wail split the night, followed by a long string of curses. 

'Fuck these stairs, seriously! Fuck them so hard!!' Gandalf wheezed as the company finally got back to their starting place on second floor.

'No thanks, but Aragorn probably would,' Elladan smirked, watching the less fit members of the company pant in exertion.

'Speaking of whom,' Frodo took over smoothly, smiling sweetly at the slightly puzzled face of Boromir, 'I believe you'll find him inside.' The Ring-bearer pointed to the door of Elrond's chamber.

'Righto,' Boromir grinned back. 'Thanks for the directions, you guys.' He gave a cheery wave to the company and disappeared inside.

'Now what?' Merry asked.

'Now we follow him,' Frodo answered. 'We wanted to check on Arwen and Legolas anyway, didn't we?'

The fellowship tried to slip through the door after Boromir as quietly as they could, which would have been a simple matter for a fellowship of Elves, Hobbits and Maia were they not all drugged off their faces. The stealth of Gimli the Dwarf did not bear worrying about, he was stuck in another trance and showed no signs of moving. Gandalf shot a final look over his shoulder at the lone motionless Naugrim, shrugged and followed the rest of the company back into Elrond's suite.

Arwen had indeed recalled her powers of speech, and had, for the past hour, put them to effective use. Aragorn, used to his betrothed's rages, was patiently weathering the storm and doing his best to duck the various objects being sporadically hurled in his direction. 

Legolas had not been so fortunate. The beginning of Arwen's tirade had been largely directed at him, scaring the wood-elf into retreating to an adjacent room, the one Elrond used to store his hair accessories. As he listened through the door, trying hard to fight off the beginnings of post-traumatic stress, he was able to thankfully discern that Arwen had finally moved past her initial fit.

'So, how many were there? Were they all males? Are you gay, Estel, is that it?' Arwen rapidly shot angry questions at her beleaguered partner.

'No! I'm just open-minded. But elf females are all so frigid …' Aragorn's voice trailed off at Arwen's icy glare.

'How many were there?' the Evenstar demanded in a distinctly frigid tone.

'Um … I'm a stoner, so I can't really remember?'

'Approximately?' Arwen was not deterred.

'Um …. fifty?'

'What the FUCK?!' Arwen screamed the expletive so loudly that Legolas covered his ears even through the door. 'A drunken adolescent mistake and a goodbye fling I might have been able to deal with, but I should warn you now, Estel, that you're in serious danger of pissing me off!!'

Aragorn cringed at the onslaught. 'I'm sorry! I do love you, Arwen, more than my life, I swear it!'

'Then what's the fucking deal, Estel?' Arwen ground out, hands on her hips.

'Well, I get urges – '

'So do I, but you don't see me screwing around!' Arwen spat.

'But it's different for me, I'm a guy! You only get horny, what, two days every month?'

Arwen rolled her eyes. 'That's ridiculous! I've been desperate for it ever since I came of age! But I kept myself for my true love. It's a little thing called fucking self-restraint, O he who would be King!'

Aragorn dropped to his knees, grabbing Arwen's hand. 'I'm sorry, you have no idea how much! I'll be sorry for the rest of my life! I'm not worthy of you, I'm just a stupid mortal who thinks with his - '

'Silence!' Arwen snapped, jerking her hand free in disgust.

'I love you, Arwen, you are my whole reason for being!' Aragorn was going for broke. He fell prostrate, grovelling at the elf-lady's feet. 

'Will you get up!' she yelled impatiently, yanking a fistful of his hair for emphasis. 'How stupid do you think I am?!'

With his face buried in Arwen's hemline, Aragorn was unaware of the timely entrance of Boromir to the room. 'From the moment I saw you, I knew I had found perfection,' he implored the rich material. 'There is nothing I could ever want for when I am near you, your very presence makes me complete! I am yours forever, I swear it by the Lady's grace.'

The other stoners sans Gimli trailed through the door in time to catch the last snatches of this heartfelt display, and the lord of Gondor's unexpected reaction.

'Aragorn …' a broken whisper, so obviously filled with heartache drifted through the air. Boromir looked at the Ranger with utter betrayal stamped on his features. 'That's exactly what you said to me not ten hours ago!!'

Aragorn froze, his features twisted in horrified fear. Arwen began emitting a curious sound, a low, feral growl from the back of her throat, her fingers tightening painfully in Aragorn's hair.

'Fuck, not him too?' Elladan was incredulous. He looked disbelievingly at Frodo. 'How did you know? I thought we were all just being paranoid!'

Frodo inclined his head cutely and put on his seductively mysterious smile. 'Just a guess.'

Though the weed had lowered his natural defences, Sam was still reliable enough a confidante to refrain from informing the group that while sadism was not his master's thing, voyeurism definitely was.

'Why, you're becoming just like us, Master Frodo!' Elrohir exclaimed grandly.

Sam was not alone in wondering if that was a good thing.

Pippin looked around. 'Hey, where's Legolas?'

'In the closet,' Aragorn replied weakly, his head hurting too much to realise the complete inappropriateness of the statement (though the hobbits and the twin sons of Elrond snickered delightedly).

'I think it's time we sat down and had a talk, Aragorn,' Gandalf decided gravely.

'Ok, so Aragorn's a nymphomaniac. It could be worse,' Elrohir reasoned, reclined opposite the Ranger and Gandalf on the bed.

'How could it be worse? That the future King of Gondor is a whore doesn't exactly encourage optimism,' Elrond countered, sitting heavily down in his chair.

Aragorn's brow rose, but anything he might have said was quelled by a sharp look from Arwen, who had reclaimed her own mangled chair.

'Hey, we've all got problems,' Elrohir defended his foster brother. 'Besides, considering the kinky shit some of those other Rangers get up to, I think we can consider ourselves lucky.'

Elrond had to concede that point, shrugging indifferently.

'True.' Gandalf considered. 'I think we're missing the most important issue here: Aragorn needs help, and we're the ones who are going to give it to him.'

'Excuse me, do I get a say in this?' Aragorn could keep silent no longer.

'No,' said everyone except Arwen, who snarled 'Shut up, bitch!' instead.

The company was divided, with Gandalf, Elrond and Elrohir delegated to Arwen and Aragorn. The hobbits and Elladan had volunteered to look after Legolas and Boromir. The Gondorian had spared a withering look for his one-time love before allowing himself to be lead through to join Legolas in Elrond's closet – privately dubbed "The Rejects' Room" by their minders. Gimli had yet to make an appearance.

'You don't seem to understand your importance,' Gandalf continued, looking intently Aragorn. 'You are heir to the throne of the King of the West, yet you act like a common trollop. It's not cool, man.'

'I don't deal well with pressure, okay?' Aragorn said tightly, his arms crossed. 'It's all very well and good for everyone to expect a leader of Men to rise, but it's different when you're the chump who gets stuck actually doing it! Did it ever occur to any of you that I might have other plans for my life?' He looked defiantly around at the stunned group. 'There, I said it!!'

Gandalf recovered first, stoned though he was. 'Are you saying that you're doing this shit because you don't want to be King?'

Aragorn sighed. 'Like I said, I don't like pressure.' Looking straight at Arwen, he confessed, 'Perhaps, on some level of consciousness, I want you to leave me. I know you won't settle for less than you deserve, to be a queen. Without you, I'd have no reason to reunite the Kingdoms.'

'Estel …' Arwen was practically speechless. 'I had no idea.'

There was an uncomfortable silence. Elrond wanted to ask if he was the only one still stoned enough to find this funny, but wisely decided against it.

'Perhaps if we had a moment alone?' the Evenstar asked presently, looking beseechingly at her father.

'I could use another hit,' Elrond agreed, standing up with a yawn. 

'Good luck,' Gandalf murmured to Aragorn as he and Elrohir vacated the bed. 'Hey, Gimli, we're going for another sesh!' the wizard shouted as the three passed by the main door. After a pause, the Dwarf trotted obediently through to join them in the somewhat crowded closet.

'What's the score?' Elrohir asked his twin as soon as they got inside.

'The hobbits are wasted, the human is wasted and the blond seems a bit depressed.' Elladan answered succinctly from his spot on the floor.

Elrohir made a more thorough observation of his surroundings. The closet was illuminated by a couple of lanterns Legolas had found earlier. Merry and Pippin were playing frisbee with Elrond's diadem of state. Frodo and Sam were talking to Legolas, who did indeed look depressed, and Boromir was passed out beside them.  

'So it would seem,' he agreed. Opting not to follow their father and Gandalf to check on the Rejects, he plopped down next to his brother and joined in the hobbits' frisbee game until Elrond could be bothered to prompt the next high. 

Gimli just stood there.

'You shouldn't take it so personally,' Frodo was saying to Legolas as the wizard and elf-lord came to join them. 'Aragorn probably has a range of emotional problems that could explain his behavior.'

The wood-elf smiled sadly. 'Be that as it may, it is of no comfort to me, young one. Aragorn obviously feels less for me than I for him.' He sighed, a soft, whispery sound. 'It has been many years since I felt this alone.'

'Perhaps you'd feel better after some pipe-weed?' Frodo changed tack.

Legolas' reaction was surprising. 'No!' he answered, rather sharply. 'Forgive me,' he quickly amended, seeing Frodo's puzzled expression. 'But it is not our way in the woodland.'

'Why not, if you don't mind my asking, sir?' Sam was curious.

'My father prohibited its use many centuries ago,' Legolas explained. 'He said that such practices are a disgrace to elvenlore. It was because the minds of our people had become clouded that we did not see the Shadow descending on Greenwood until it was too late. My father made us see that we were wrong to indulge in fantasy when reality is more important.'

'That elf is _whipped_,' Elladan whispered to his twin, who nodded gravely.

'Your father's a paranoid old hypocrite,' Elrond scoffed. He chuckled at his insult until he realised that he'd spoken out loud.

'Why do you say that, lord?' Legolas asked coolly, the softness of his voice a contrast to his ice-blue stare.

Elrond briefly wondered if by answering he'd create a diplomatic incident. After deciding that he probably already had, he shrugged inwardly and replied, 'Well, paranoid due to the fact that back in the Secondies, he smoked more weed than Celeborn and Cirdan put together. And we used to call _them_ the Teleri Trip Twins. But your father, he was the High Trip-let, their noble leader.' Elrond smiled. Nostalgia was a trip in itself.

'That was a long time ago,' Legolas defended his parent. 'He's learned from his mistakes since then. It doesn't make him a hypocrite.'

'No, but he still drinks, doesn't he?' Elrond countered.

'Yes. But it is not the same.'

'Isn't it? Why is getting pissed any better than getting stoned? They both have debilitating effects, but with one the experience is usually limited to a quick shag with immortal consequences, whereas with the other you actually get a chance to think about the true nature of the Circles of the World and beyond without all the crap that inhibits regular thought processes.' Elrond was nothing if not a good ranter. 'So you see, my good Legolas, pipe-weed is actually one of the cornerstones of elvenlore.'

The wood-elf was unconvinced. Politely, he returned, 'Perhaps if you allowed your thought processes time to recuperate from such debilitating effects, lord, they would be less inhibited by crap.'

Elrond looked at him a moment, then randomly said: 'Have you ever heard of hot-boxing?'

'No,' Legolas replied sullenly, obviously wanting to get back to his self-pity. 'Why?'

'Never mind. Sorry I bothered you,' Rivendell's lord soothed. Eyeing the small dimensions of the room, he reached into his pocket. 'Lorien, anyone?'

**Thus ends what was pre-written and yet-to-be-edited. The next chapter might be long in coming because I've got practically nothing down on it. And school has begun again, leaving not much time for inspiration/toking. Story's likely become less funny as a result. But I've made it my mish to get this thing finished, and so it shall be done. Soon-ishly. Stoner's honour.**


End file.
